Friday, December 03, 2004

All Tapped Out...

I committed a horrible act yesterday. I hauled off and slapped the shit out of my man. And while I realized at the time that my actions could have painful consequences, I was more than ready to brawl.

For those of you who read For Love or For Money and told me to leave his ass alone, I salute your wisdom and wonder why I didn’t heed your advice. The fact of the matter is that he still doesn't have a job, and I have yet to see signs that job hunting is a priority for him.

Now, it’s not like he’s home at my house all day long doing nothing. But instead of being out looking for a job, he only manages to find his way to the recording studio at his friend’s house to make an album that nobody will ever hear. I guess he thinks Puffy is just waiting in the wings for his masterpiece so that he can schedule my man on an upcoming episode of BET’s 106 & Park.

Last night, he called me from the studio at 8:00p.m. to say that he was on his way home and had a ride (my man doesn’t have a car). He asked me had I eaten yet. I told him I hadn’t. He said he hadn’t either, and was on his way.

He didn’t arrive at my crib, however, until 4:00a.m., and he smelled like a brewery! During the interim time, do you think I got so much as a phone call? I was worried sick! I had no idea what to think.

Needless to say, I couldn’t go to sleep. So, I stayed awake waiting. When he walked in the door, I came downstairs and asked, “What happened?”

“Nothing. My ride left me, and I didn’t have any way to call you.”

“So, you’re saying that in the past eight hours since you called to say you were headed this way, you couldn’t find a single phone in Cincinnati that you could use to call me?”

“I didn’t have any money.”

“Well, you do know how to call collect, don’t you?”

“What fucking difference does it make?! I’m a grown ass man! I don’t have a fucking curfew. Why the fuck do I need to tell you where I am?”

Now…let me just say for the record that this man is living in my house with no job, no cell phone, no car and no contributions to the household bills. I, on the other hand, work every single day of the week. Not because I want to, but because I have to. I do so because I want to create the kind of home environment that I want to live in. The last thing I need is some inconsiderate dude yelling at me in my house at 4:00 in the morning because he’s mad that I called him on his bullshit.

“Need I remind you that this is MY house! I pay the bills here! I’ve been up all fucking night thinking something bad might have happened to you. At the very least, you could have called so that I could go to bed in peace!”

I barely got those words out of my mouth before he started loud talking me—not letting me finish a single thought. I was already tired, and way past being pissed. So, without thinking, I used every bit of might I had to send his neck rolling in a 360 degree turn. It was wrong, and I regret that I did it. But I was truly pissed and couldn’t stop my arm from swinging.

I probably don’t have to tell you that there were many other factors that led to my anger. This situation happened to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. I just cannot take his shit anymore. And on top of that, the fact that I hit him means I truly don’t respect him. Therefore, the relationship is as dead as it could possibly be.

After the blow to his right jaw, he proceeds to continue screaming at the top of his lungs until about 5:30 a.m. I was every kind of bitch you could imagine. He was every kind of broke nigga, too. I would try to go into my room to go to bed, and he would simply walk in, turn on the lights, and start screaming again in that “and another thing…” style. It was horrible!

This morning, I woke up after managing about a half hour of sleep and got dressed for work. As I sit and type this post, I am about to fall asleep.

At lunch, I went home to check the status of my house. I had taken back his keys and hid them in my room, but I wanted to make sure he hadn’t destroyed the place while I was gone.

When I got there, I found him in the family room watching television. He came upstairs and walked past me without uttering a single word. I said, “We need to talk.” That led to more arguing. I just got fed up and told him to get the fuck out if he didn’t like what I was saying.

Further discussion revealed that last night, he found out his ride left him by about 9:00p.m. Instead of calling me then, he just stayed “at the studio.” Then, he says he walked several blocks to a bar he frequents to try and find a ride. When he got to the bar, he found out they were having “Poetry Night,” and decided he wanted his chance at the mike. So, he waited in the bar and threw back a couple of beers. He said he didn’t call because he didn’t think it was a big deal.

Notice how his story shifted from, “I didn’t have any way to call you” to “I didn’t call you because I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Maybe under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be. But the fact of the matter is…he cannot treat my house like the Motel 6! He’s not helping me with bills. He’s not paying for the lights he left on yesterday. He wouldn’t be able to replace my furniture had he burned down the house because he left the coffee pot on all day. Hell, he damn near left lights on in every room!

He’s not putting gas in my car the umpteen million times he’s been allowed to use it to go find the job he can never locate. I realized yesterday that I am just being used. Funny thing is…he wants me to feel guilty about it.

Instead of truly apologizing for what he did, he proceeded to say that I was an evil bitch for putting him on the street knowing he didn’t have anyplace to go. He even called his mama, and from the sounds of his responses to her, she thinks I’m right, too. So, all she got was a quick dial tone from her youngest son (and in the middle of the night, no less).

The lunch hour ended with me dropping him with all of his belongings at the studio. After slamming my car doors and trunk, he spits on my car and calls me more bitches than I’ve ever been called in life.

Well, you know what? I’ll be those bitches. Each and every one of them. I have more than done enough to show this fool how much I care. And he has more than done enough to show me he truly doesn’t. I’m a convenience for him. And at 32 years of age, that makes me feel sick to my stomach that I would even allow someone into my home who has no regard for my feelings.

I am constantly reminded of his situation. I am constantly told that I don't give a fuck about the shit he’s going through. But, he is 30 years old. It is not my fault or my burden that he cannot get his life together. Why should I put my life on hold to wait for a man who hasn't grown up yet?

How does he expect to act all like the “high and mighty man of the house” when he constantly invades its peace with his antics? He even said to me, “You ain’t my wife or my mother!” And he’s right. I am neither. And that speaks volumes as to why he doesn’t need to lay his jobless, inconsiderate ass up in my house.

So, it’s over…finally and for good. It is painfully clear that I can never have a future with him because he has not yet grown into a man. I can’t even introduce him to my family, because he’s afraid they will think negatively of him because of his situation. He acts like I’m out telling everybody I know that I’m dating a man who hasn’t worked since the day I met him. And last week, my sister was in town from the West Coast, and she and her boyfriend came over to watch the Bengals/Browns game. He stayed upstairs the entire time—making me a third wheel at my own Sunday afternoon football set. He won’t agree to meet any of my friends.

I’ve had enough. I just don’t have the patience to see this one through. I’m not even sure where I would begin. And I realize his problems are not mine to solve. Maybe one day, I’ll stop picking up all these stray cats. Cause Lord knows, I cannot afford them. Not financially…not mentally…and not emotionally.

I’m all tapped out…

One last thought. If he didn't have any money to call me from a pay phone, who bought him the beer?...


At 10:52 AM, Blogger Jdid said...

you just said a mouthful sis.

I guess it had to end. Dont dwell on it too much and please dont do something silly like let him talk you into taking him back. It may be rough for a few days but you'll make it through.

I'm proud of you for getting out of that situation.

At 12:06 PM, Blogger Ignatious said...

wow, i'm feeling for you. i think you are WAY better off.

find yourself a nice geek. :)

lunch on me?

At 3:04 PM, Blogger Fiber said...

I say "Good riddance."
Seriously, took some serious cahones for you to stand up to him and realize when enough is enough.
I know it wasn't easy, but you know you'll be better off this way.
Good thoughts and hugs for you.

At 11:17 AM, Blogger JustMe said...

Thanks Jdid, Fiber and Iggy!

It's been a truly rough week, but I'm hanging in there. He actually called me once during the fallout to damn near demand that I bring him $20 so he could get something to eat. Can you believe that? It's clear he's a lot more interested in the livlihood I can provide than he is in loving me. So, fuck him! My pocketbook is already thanking me. Peace

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